Amelia heads straight toward the bar where a young, hot bartender flips a bottle to impress some of the patrons seated around him. He has on a pink vest over a black shirt, and his hair is slicked back, a silver earring in his left ear.
“Hey, West, did a box come in for me?” she asks.
“Oh, hey,” he replies, setting down the bottle and tossing his towel over his shoulder. “Yeah, it’s in the back room. Want me to grab it for you?”
“Nah,” she says, waving a hand at him. “I’ll get it.” Then she turns toward me. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I open my mouth to object, wanting to tether myself to her with one of those leashes parents put on their children in amusement parks, but she’s gone before I get the chance to argue.
“Have a seat,” the bartender says. “Want a drink?”
I keep my eyes unfocused, darting around on furniture and fixtures, afraid of accidentally making contact with another person. “Um, sure. A…whiskey sour, please.”
“You got it.”
As he turns away from me, I refrain from pulling out my phone, although the urge is intense. Amelia informed me that cell phones are no longer allowed on the lower level, which makes sense.
I’m not normally so shy. In any other setting, I pride myself on my confidence and firecracker personality. But that’s all a facade really. In life and in work. I pretend that I have it all figured out because I don’t know what it feels like to actually have it all figured out.
The same applies to the bedroom. With men, I want to be a confident, dominant vixen. The truth is I am far from it. I’m no vixen. In reality, I need a partner who puts trust in me, letting me harness my own sexuality without feeling vulnerable or mocked.
Otherwise known as fictional.
The truth is I’ll never have the confidence to walk into this club and approach anyone with any semblance of courage. It’s easier to just keep my head down.
Sitting alone, I tap the bar with my fingers, keeping my gaze down when I see a familiar gait across the room. Watching Julian disappear into a dark corner of the club, I slide off the barstool and slowly follow him. A man smiles at me as I pass him by, so I keep my eyes down to avoid having any awkward encounters.
When I reach the back corner of the club, I realize what is back here that Julian was headed toward. It’s the wall he spoke about in the elevator. It’s empty, so I feel a sense of comfort and courage as I walk up to it, eager to know what it would be like to touch it.
There are cuffs randomly placed around the metal framing, so I let my fingers graze across one with curiosity. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I feel someone approaching.
“Are you stalking me?” his silken voice whispers in my ear.
In my periphery, I can make out the familiar, silver-toned blond hair and those sharp blue eyes. “Julian,” I gasp, spinning around to face him.
I get the sense that I’m trespassing, but his features don’t show it. Instead of giving me a cruel expression, he seems almost…happy to see me. There’s a hint of delight in his eyes as he leans closer, his long, ring-clad fingers fixing a strand of his hair.
“So are you? Stalking me?”
My spine straightens as I tilt my head to the side. The warm, rosy lights down here bring out the sharp edges of his face. It dawns on me, once again, just how striking he is. As beautiful as a venomous viper.
Rather than playing the innocent prey, I decide to match his wit.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” I reply. “I decided I would have to lurk around every corner until after your parents’ anniversary party. You know…in case you decide to try and take it away from me again.”
He leans in, a coy smirk playing on his lips. “That seems fair. Are there snipers in here right now?”
“They’re just waiting for my signal.”
“What’s the signal?” he whispers, leaning closer.
I lift a hand, delicately tugging on my own earlobe.
Julian licks his lips before glancing around him, as if waiting to be struck down in his own club. Turning back toward me, he gives a lazy shrug.
“You caught me. I was bluffing.”
Julian’s gaze dances around the features of my face, first on my eyes and then trailing down to my lips. He’s flirting with me, but then again, I’m flirting with him too.
